It was Hagrid. Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago.
It can't be Hagrid. It just... can't be.
We don't even know this Tom Riddle. He sounds like a dirty rotten snitch to me.
The monster had killed somebody, Ron. What would any of us have done?
Look, Hagrid is our friend, so why don't we just go and ask him?
That will be a cheerful visit. "Hello, Hagrid. Tell us, have you sent anything mad and hairy loose in the castle lately?"
Oh, it's, uh, flesh-eatin’ slug repellent. For the mandrakes, y’know. Now, according to Professor Sprout, they’ve still got a bit of growin’ up to do. But, once their acne’s been cleared up, we’ll be able to chop ‘em up and stew ‘em, and then we’ll get those people down at the hospital un-Petrified. In the meantime, though, you three... had best be lookin’ after yerselves, all right? [turns and walks back where he came from; Neville starts running from in the direction Hagrid’s going] Hello, Neville.
Neville Harry, I don't know who did it, but you'd better come! Come on!
